He's My Fallen Angel

Chapter Four

Celina's POV

"Ms. Fallon?" A strange male voice asked, a hand touched my forehead and I opened my eyes with a groan, "do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

My eyes widened at the stranger and I hit his hand away, sitting up with cold fear shooting through my body. My line of sight confirmed I was in a new bedroom, then it landed on Zander who was sitting on a chair already staring at me.

His intimidating eyes shot me down and I looked back at the guy dressed in light blue, "n-no."

"Great," he smiled warmly, "so when did your fatigue start?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, frowning at each of them, "why? I-I'm okay."

"Mr. Jaxon," the doctor sighed, turning to him and my heartbeat fastened, "her refusal to answer honestly will not get the diagnosis you're searching for."

My stomach fluttered into my chest and I looked down to hide my face bashfully. He's actually worried about me?

"Celina," he said threateningly, my eyes drifted up to his and every thought I had of him caring about me vanished.

The doctor looked back at me and I swallowed nervously, "I've had it on and off for years..."

He nodded, reaching into his shirt pocket and taking out a mini flashlight. He lifted my eyelids and blinded me, finishing his examination then clicking it off, "you don't seem to have anything physically wrong with you. Do you remember the last time you cried? And how often?"

"Yesterday. I don't think I'm capable of crying anymore if that tells you how often," I forced a dry laugh and he sighed again while replacing the light in his pocket.

"I see," he paused, taking a hold of my arms and turning my wrists up to analyze them, "that's good," he muttered, letting me go and turning to Zander, "thankfully, she's only suffering from depression. That's the most common reason for fatigue in people her age. I'd prescribe her medication, but she can't be left unattended with the pills in case of any newly found suicidal urges."

"No need to, she will be fine. She's a big girl," he replied, getting off the chair with the doctor following. They exited the room together and I frowned, moving the blankets off my legs and staring at the scars.

The blade split my skin and I sobbed, slicing into my flesh one after another without slowing, cutting deeper into the same slit with aggression.

"It's all my fault!" I screamed, raising the blade one last time and inserting the pocketknife into my thigh.

I screamed in tears, falling to the floor with the handle protruding from my skin.

The door opening brought me back to reality, the memory causing a lump to form in my throat. I tugged the shirt down and pulled the blanket back over my legs frantically.

His hand grabbed my wrist to stop me. I gasped at the sudden contact and flung my head up only to see Zander's face was inches from mine. He was sitting where the doctor once was, yet seeing his features so close took my breath away and feeling his warm touch made my cheeks burn up.

"I saw them in the car," he commented, his tone was calm and happened to be the nicest I've heard from him. He added onto his sentence for clarification, "your scars."

His hand released mine and I continued to stare into his eyes, astounded by his sexiness. His appearance made me forget all about the guy I was in love with, it almost even made me forget about all the wrongs he's done. However, I reminded myself how cruel he was after the butterflies in my stomach flew away.

He's an evil man who's incapable of a pure feeling. My life was taken and it's all his fault. I can't catch feelings for someone else, a murderer at that, especially someone who took everything I've ever loved from me. I hate why I feel a pull to him. Why do I want to be close to him? Just staring into his eyes makes me feel things I've never felt before, not even with Dave. Could this be Stockholm syndrome already getting to me?

"Are you and your men the Angels of Death?" I exhaled without thought, watching his eyes darken and he shot his hand to my throat tightly. My breathing was silenced and he pulled my face closer, our noses slightly touching.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to," he said coldly. I averted my gaze to his tattooed neck and softly raised my hand to graze my thumb over it. His body stiffened at my touch and I used my other hand to take his quickly loosening grip off me.

"That statement answers all I need to know," I replied, moving his head to the side warily to get a better look at the embedded ink, "I kind of like it..." I added mindlessly, his cold expression lightened in little surprise.

"What?" He asked, genuinely thrown off by my compliment. I hesitantly raised my hand to his face from its position on his neck but jolted it back when I felt his facial hair in fear he'd snap. When he didn't, I moved it slower and held his jaw. His growing beard was soft yet prickly, the feeling on my hand was oddly relaxing. I've always liked facial hair, unfortunately Dave never had it.

"The tattoo," I clarified, the warmth of his skin brainwashed all negative emotion I held. His eyes glanced at my lips for hardly a second and my heart did nervous flips.

I leaned in but his hand shot out to my chest-bone, barely stopping me from making the connection. If I'd have gone any further we'd be kissing and the image made my face heated for the millionth time.

"No," he snapped, looking at my lips again which only worsened my confusion. Was that not what he wanted?

"You said I was p*****t. You kept me for you and your men's desires, right? You wanted me to kiss you, didn't you?" I asked in a whisper, his eyes returned to mine, "I think I understand my place here now, I know I can't leave. You were right before... if I just cooperated everything would be better for me."

"I also said I wasn't going to use you," he replied. I frowned and he pushed me back with the hand he had planted on my chest. I took back my hands from his face embarrassedly.

A little jab of sadness pierced my heart the more space he put between us because rejection of any kind is awful but I forced it away, having to constantly convince myself his sexiness was to make up for his dark soul.

"Why is that? You think you're too good for me? Because you're not," I stated with a bit too much hate, watching his eyes narrow into mine and his jaw clench.

"Watch your mouth," he said bitterly, the growing anger in his voice was highly intimidating, "it appears you still don't understand your place."

"No, I understand completely," I countered, feeling all the withheld hurt I was experiencing morph into a rage I was unable to control, "you guys can beat me down in every way possible but god forbid I try to salvage what's left in me! All of you think you're so high and kingly but news flash, dude, you're nothing but f*****g criminals! Jay humiliated and desecrated me like I didn't have feelings. He crushed every ounce of my self-respect and made me feel worthless. Everything you guys have done was inhumane, none of you deserve any of my respect! And you? You're worse than them. You killed my dad right in front of me! He was my whole world! I didn't deserve that, to see the lifeless look behind his eyes as his blood covered me, to see pieces of his brain scattered along the wall, to see the only man I actually need in my life die in a way he didn't deserve, to see a dead f*****g body! You took me from my home and are allowing your men to use me in whatever way they please. If what you did didn't ruin me enough... your men will surely finish the job. You are a selfish, cold-hearted, unloved, vile man who will get what's coming to him!"

"Your opinion means nothing to me," he scowled, sounding agitated by my insults, "but face it, Celina. I didn't ruin you, you were always damaged goods."

My chest felt like it was decompressing into my heart and water filled my eyes. The audacity he had to defend his wrongful deeds sickened me to the core. My lip quivered from the hurt that coursed through me until the cold feeling was overtaken by pure anger.

I sat in silence, trying to suppress it, but before I knew it, my hand reeled back and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. A loud smack echoed the room and the sound made regret hit me like a train, my blinded rage languished instantly.

He stiffened, freezing in his position with his head turned to the side from the force. His jaw was clenched so hard I was surprised his teeth didn't shatter, the anger that flashed through his eyes sparked back the fear I just managed to overcome.

"I'm-I'm so s-sorry!" My voice shook and I closed my eyes, lowering my head and waiting for his retaliation. The longer my body was left untouched the worse my trembling became.

I felt the bed move and my eyes opened reluctantly just in time to see him leave the room and slam the door, my anxiety melted and I breathed heavily. The tears in my eyes fell as I dropped my body to the bed, immense relief filling me.

"Oh god," I sniffled quietly, shaken up from my fading anxiety and grabbing a pillow to muffle any noise that may attract them in here.

Why would he let me get away with that? He should be the one who'd inflict the most harm on me for doing something as stupid as that. If he were any of the others, they'd beat me senseless... So why didn't he? My unpunished behavior only made me feel worse about it even though he deserves so much more than a mere slap.

I shouldn't be feeling guilty for it because he's a monster yet I do. Although, I'm also so proud of myself for standing up to him. There's mixed emotion swirling in me and I hated it.

My uncontrolled hostility forced me to come to the conclusion that I'll never be able to accept my new fate.

I'm going to get myself killed.